Page 97 of First Surrender

“For the rest of my life, sweetheart,” I promise.

“I believe you,” she admits against my lips, sealing her promise with a kiss instead of words. “You’re the family I always wanted, for me and Dec.”

She isn’t ready to tell me she loves me but I know she does because I feel it in every inch of trust that she gives me, every smile, and every window of vulnerability. To her, family is supposed to mean love and that’s what she’s giving me.

“Should we go back out there to Dec or do you want me to try to make him a new family member, right now?” I ask, kissing her stomach. She laughs and finally shoves me off of her.

“No way. Part of your punishment is going without for a while. You made me wonder where you were for hours, so we’ll start there. You can check back in with me tonight,” she says, motioning to her imaginary watch.

“You’re right, I deserve that.”

“Besides, I think your breeding kink is getting a little out of control.” Her face is serious for only a moment before she cackles, theatrically slapping her knee.

“Call it what you want but I’m obsessed with you and I want little clones of you to fill this house,” I whisper in her ear as we exit the bedroom, making her smile shyly.

My hands rest on the curve of her waist as we walk down the hall but she stops suddenly when we reach the living room and I almost plow over her. “Dec?” She says, seeing that he’s not on the couch.

“Dec!” She shouts and we’re greeted by silence. An eerie silence that raises red flags in my head.

“I’ll check outside, you check his room.” I move past her to the front door, attempting to ignore the rock suddenly sitting in my gut.

He’s not on the porch or in the yard but when I jog down the front walkway, a breath of relief escapes me when I see him in the garage.

“Dec, what are you doing out here?” As soon as I ask the question, I focus in on his frown.

“Someone ran over my bike.” Sure enough, his front wheel is bent at almost a 90-degree angle. Natalie comes bounding around the corner and gasps.

“What the hell?” She rushes over to Dec to examine the bike while ice courses through my veins. Suddenly, the broken bike is the least of my concerns.

“Get in the house,” I demand, grabbing the bike and shoving it far enough out of the way to close the garage door.

“Why?” Dec whines, sad to leave his bike behind.

“Nat, go.” My voice leaves no room for question, as soon as her eyes meet mine she’s shifting into gear and tugging Dec inside.

That bike was perfectly fine an hour ago.

Which means someone was in my driveway and near my house, way too close for comfort.

Whether the bike was run over on purpose or not is what I need to find out, because Dec was a sitting duck and I let my guard down.

I immediately go from a happy-go-lucky family man back into the Sheriff of Rollins County in the blink of an eye.

My security cameras showed a navy conversion van pull into my driveway, idle for a few minutes, and then take a purposeful three-point turn over Dec’s bike. My video quality wasn’t clear enough to get a license plate but I recognized the old vanimmediately. It’s the same vehicle Declan was driving when I was following him.

I don’t know how he found out where I lived, but my only guess is that his lawyer showed him the paperwork provided to the court with my contact information in it. Worse would be that someone else gave him my address which means they’re not an ally of mine.

Either way, Declan does not belong on my property or near Dec. I’m keepingmyfamily safe, no matter what.

Over the coming days, my hours are spent deep diving into Declan Randolph but he’s M.I.A. and other cases are piling up. The number of fatal overdoses has increased and I can’t help but see a connection. People are dying from a fentanyl pill that is eerily similar to how Dec’s mom died.

If Declan is behind this then there is even more reason that he needs to be locked up. The custody hearing is coming up and I need to know for sure he won’t be able to come near Dec ever again.

“Sheriff,” Roberta greets me as I come in from the scene of the last overdose. “Prosecutor Fulton is waiting in your office.”

I nod and enter my office where Fulton sits at a chair in front of my desk, staring blankly out the window. “Fulton, what can I do for you?

“Sheriff, we have a problem.”

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